


The Holly and the Ivy

by WishIwasMeg



Category: Benton Fraser/ Margaret Thatcher, due South
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28246188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishIwasMeg/pseuds/WishIwasMeg
Summary: A Christmas romance
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Margaret Thatcher
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	The Holly and the Ivy

**Author's Note:**

> A very merry Christmas to all Ben/Meg ‘shippers out there! Thanks for reading my stories over the course of this year and special thanks to those who took the time to leave encouraging comments and kudos. Here’s a bit of Ben/Meg fluff for Christmas. Hope you all have as pleasant a Festive Season as possible in these difficult times.

"That’s odd!” Inspector Margaret Thatcher unlocked the heavy wooden doors of the Liaison Department of the Canadian consulate in Chicago and went to de-activate the alarm. To her consternation, she found that it was not set. She was sure that there should be no-one else in the building, so either Constable Fraser had forgotten to activate it when he went out (highly unlikely, she thought) or an intruder had gained access and managed to cancel it. Another odd thing that struck her was that the lights on the giant Christmas tree in the foyer were switched on. Admittedly it WAS Christmas Day, but as far as she knew, none of her staff was scheduled to be in the building. Her secretary Ovitz was spending the holiday with his girlfriend, the girls in the typing pool were all local and had gone off to be with their families, Constable Turnbull had flown off two days earlier to his parents in Vancouver, and Constable Fraser had been invited to spend the day with the Vecchio family. So who was here? As she stood debating whether to investigate or call the police, a door suddenly flew open and she became aware of a growl and a flash of silver-grey fur.

“Diefenbaker! Down!” said a familiar voice.

When she had collected her wits, she realised that the fur belonged to Fraser’s wolfdog, who having recognised her, was now sitting beside her wagging his tail. His master appeared through the door of his office/ bedroom.

“Fraser! You nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you doing here at this time on Christmas morning?” She had received quite a fright . Her heart was pounding and she was trembling slightly.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He was standing in jeans and a plaid shirt, not quite at attention but fairly rigid.

“I thought you were going to church with the Vecchios and spending the day with them,” she said, trying not to show that she was shaken.

“I’m afraid there was a family emergency overnight and the celebrations had to be called off at the last minute. One of the grandchildren had to be taken to hospital. Suspected appendicitis. They wanted to provide a meal of sorts for me, but I declined. They have enough on their hands without feeding me.”

“I see,” she said. “That’s too bad. I hope the youngster is all right.”  
“The last I heard the operation went well,” he replied. “But I’m surprised to see you here, sir. Weren’t you flying back to Toronto last night to spend Christmas with your family?”

“Blizzards,” she said flatly. “All the airports in the Toronto area have been closed.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he said. “I know how much you were looking forward to your trip home.” He wanted to ask why she had come to an empty consulate on Christmas Day, but decided it was none of his business. It was her consulate, after all. But she seemed to read his thoughts.

“I found myself at a loose end with nothing to do, so I thought I would pick up some paperwork from the office to pass the time at home. Not very exciting, but at least it’s better than sitting moping in my apartment on my own.”

“Of course, sir. I won’t detain you.” He turned to re-enter his room. Suddenly, from she knew not where, a thought struck her.

“Fraser, since we are both on our own, would you like to come back to spend Christmas with me? I managed to get some last minute food shopping done last night after my flight was cancelled. Nothing fancy, you understand. But you’re welcome to come and share it.”

He looked stunned for a moment, then he said, “Thank you very much, sir, that’s very kind but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It wouldn’t be an imposition, Fraser. In fact I would welcome the company. I didn’t relish the thought of spending Christmas on my own.”  
A smile suffused his handsome features. “Well in that case, sir, I would be delighted. But what about Diefenbaker?”  
The wolfdog gave her a piteous look. “Oh I suppose he can come too, seeing it’s Christmas,” she said. The animal came over and licked her hand in thanks.

Meg went upstairs to collect the papers she had come for, while Ben fetched his coat, gloves and stetson. He bent down to look the wolf directly in the face. “Now you just listen to me, mister,” he said enunciating very clearly. “You are to be on your very best behaviour. Understood?”

“Wruff!” the animal yipped.

“No climbing on the furniture. No begging for food. I want to make a good impression and I don’t want you spoiling things.”

“Grffff……wooof……yaowww,” said Diefenbaker.

“No, it’s not like that,” said Fraser. “I know she’s beautiful and you and I both know that I want to kiss her, but I need to keep things strictly formal.”

“Wrrrrf?” asked Diefenbaker.

“You know very well why. She’s my commanding officer. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Hrufff…grfff”

“No, it’s not like wolves. Humans can’t just mate with any female that takes their fancy, no matter how much they want to.”

Dief was about to question the logic of this when Meg reappeared carrying a briefcase full of papers. “Shall we go?” she asked.

They drove in relative silence to her apartment and she led the way inside. Fraser had picked her up on occasions to drive her to official functions, but he had never been further than the front door. He was curious to see what he could deduce about this enigmatic woman from the decor of her apartment. His main impression was of tranquility. The walls were painted a subtle shade of peach with white woodwork and on them hung a selection of artwork which he guessed to be original. When he commented on them, she had blushed slightly and confessed they were her own work.

“I didn’t know you painted, sir,” he said. “They are very good.”

“Yes, well I daresay there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she replied. “I studied art in Paris when I was younger. How I ended up in the RCMP is a rather long story for another day.” 

“I’d like to hear it some day, sir,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back. “Constable, since we are off duty do you think you could manage to call me by my first name?”

“Margaret?” he asked tentatively.

“My friends call me Meg.”

He smiled at the thought that she considered him a friend. “And what would you prefer to be called,” she asked, “Benton or Ben?”

“My mother always called me Ben.”

“Ben it is then,” she smiled. “Now let’s get Christmas lunch organised.”  
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, and she pointed to one of the kitchen cabinets.

“You could set the table if you like.”

Soon the two of them were busy getting the meal prepared and the table laid. There were no Christmas decorations on display as Meg had not intended to be there over the holiday, but Ben rummaged in a drawer and found a red candle. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said as he pulled on his coat and disappeared out of the front door. Five minutes later he reappeared holding several strands of ivy. “I noticed these growing outside on the way in,” he said. “I don’t think anyone will begrudge us them at Christmas.” Skilfully he began to weave them around the candle holder until he had an attractive decoration which he placed in the centre of the small kitchen table which he had already covered with a red and green tablecloth.

When the meal was ready, they sat down opposite one another in a rather awkward silence, neither of them quite sure how to play out this new scenario between them. Meg spoke first. “What was Christmas like when you were a boy?” she asked.

“Well, remember I grew up in a remote part of the Territories. It was dark for most of the day and it always seemed to be snowing. I don’t remember my father ever being there after my mother died. He was always out on patrol. I think he volunteered for it because coming home for Christmas evoked too many painful memories of Mum, and that included me. My grandparents did their best, but they weren’t the most imaginative of people and I don’t think they knew how to make Christmas magical for a young boy. We made our own decorations, paper chains and such like. I always longed for toys like other children got, but mostly my gifts were educational, usually books, which was a bit ironic considering I lived in a library. But my grandfather always said you could never have too many books. I remember the year I got a pair of skates. I think they were second-hand, but I was ecstatic.”

Meg looked at this man sitting in her kitchen and her heart swelled with pity for the little boy who had got books instead of toys for Christmas. She was beginning to understand a little of what had shaped the personality of this strange creature.

“What about your Christmases…Meg?” he asked.

Meg thought about her privileged, middle-class upbringing in a well-to-do suburb of Toronto. “My sister and I loved Christmas,” she said. “We looked forward to it for weeks. On Christmas Eve my dad would bring a tree home and we would decorate it with tinsel and lights and the family collection of baubles. We would leave out some cookies and a glass of milk for Santa and some carrots for the reindeer and then Janet and I would go to bed and try to stay awake to listen for Santa’s sleigh, but of course we always fell asleep. In the morning we always found loads of presents. We were spoiled.”

“It sounds wonderful,” he said wistfully. “I believed in Santa Claus when I was small and my mother was alive. But after I went to live with my grandparents they soon made it quite clear that Santa Claus wasn’t real, so I didn’t even have that.”

“Oh, Ben!” she whispered and instinctively she reached for his hand and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. He looked down at their joined hands and suddenly embarrassed, she drew her hand away. “Shall we get these dishes cleared up?” she asked in her most matter-of-fact tone, although her heart ached for the little boy whose belief in Santa had been so prematurely shattered.

When they had loaded the dishwasher, Ben stood around uncomfortably.  
“Thank you for the lovely meal, Meg,” he said, “but maybe I should be on my way now and let you get on with your work.”

“You don’t have to,” she blurted out rather more quickly than necessary. “I’m enjoying the company. Please stay if you would like to.”

“All right,” he replied, and she led the way into the living room. She settled on the comfortable sofa and he sat down in a matching armchair. She felt unexpectedly bereft that he had chosen not to sit beside her. Diefenbaker made himself at home on a rug in front of the fire. They began to chat, and as time went on they became more relaxed again in each other’s company. Somehow the constraints of rank were beginning to melt away and Meg was astonished at how naturally they seemed to connect with each other and how much, surprisingly, they had in common. The more she interacted with this man, the more she felt attracted to him. “This can’t be happening again,” she told herself. But the more she fought it, the more she found herself giving in to feelings she had long been pushing to the back of her mind. Her thoughts drifted to the incident on the train. She had convinced herself that it was an adrenaline-fuelled aberration born of the life and death situation they were facing, hurtling towards nuclear catastrophe. But the feelings that kiss had evoked were coming back with a vengeance. She could still feel the thrill of his touch as he fished for that fallen hairpin between her breasts and the magic of that long, wonderful moment when their lips had met and time had stood still. “Get a grip, Meg!” she told herself sternly. “Those are not appropriate thoughts for a senior officer to have about a subordinate.” Their conversation had stalled again, so she suggested putting on some music to fill the silence.

“Why don’t you take a look through the CDs, Ben?” she suggested. She had no idea what his taste in music was. Her own tastes were eclectic and she wondered what he would choose. He went over and scanned the shelves, then pulled out a CD and slotted it into the player. It was a selection of easy-listening Christmas classics. He stood for an instant then held out his hand. "Would you care to dance?” he asked as the strains of “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas” drifted over them.

She was taken aback for a moment, then she stood up and he took her into his arms. She had read somewhere that when someone was drowning, their whole life passed before them in milliseconds. It was a similar experience for her now. In those first few seconds when he held her in his embrace, she felt that all her failed relationships, all her attempts to find a purpose in her life, all the emptiness of her existence flashed into her mind then became meaningless at that moment of epiphany. She loved this man. This man whom she had tried to dismiss from his post; whom she had despised, disdained, belittled and humiliated. She loved his gentleness, his kindness, his quirky mind which matched her own in intelligence and insight. She loved him more than she thought she could ever love anyone. Why he had this effect on her, she had no idea. Was there a reason why one fell in love? But in that single moment she knew that nothing else on earth mattered but him. She came back to the reality that he was holding her at a respectful distance as they swayed to the music. She looked into his eyes and saw in them a longing which made her heart do cartwheels. That exchanged glance seemed to give him the permission he was seeking, and he pulled her close until their bodies touched from head to toe. As if in slow motion, he bent forward and brushed her temples, her eyes, then her cheeks with his lips, until he found her mouth and at first gently, then with growing passion, he crushed her lips with his. With a moan of pleasure she responded to his kiss.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Oh Meg…” Again he enveloped her in his embrace and she became aware of tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Ben, what’s the matter? Oh my dear, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“No, you don’t understand,” he sobbed as he held her tight. “No-one has said those words to me since my mother died when I was six. Not even….” He stopped, unsure of what she knew of his destructive relationship with Victoria Metcalf. He had given her his heart and she had taken it and trampled on it.

“Oh my poor darling,” Meg whispered. “I’ll say it a thousand times. I love you. I love you. I love…” He stilled her lips with another kiss.

“And I love you,” he breathed. “I’ve loved you since the first day I met you.”

“But I was an absolute bitch to you that day,” she said in astonishment.

“I know, but it didn’t matter. I can’t explain it. I could have had any number of women in Chicago - Elaine, Francesca, God knows they were throwing themselves at me, but after you came, you were the only one I wanted. You know,” he blushed shyly, “that first night after I met you, I had a dream about you; one of those dreams…” he blushed again. “I knew then that I could never love anyone else.”

She held him tight. “So what are we going to do about this?” she asked.

“You mean tonight or in the long term?”

“Tonight’s easy,” she smiled. “But what about the future?”  
“Meg, I don’t want a casual affair. If you can’t see a long term future for us, I would rather end things now. You see, I don’t take these things lightly. I want commitment; a life together; children.”  
“Are you asking me to marry you?” she asked in astonishment.

“No, of course not,” he replied. “We don’t know each other well enough yet for that. But I’m asking you to be open to the possibility of marrying me if this works out. If you can’t see our relationship in those terms, then we want different things.”

She looked earnestly into his blue eyes. “Oh Ben, once upon a time I would have said that climbing the RCMP career ladder was my only priority, but now it doesn’t seem important any more. I’m coming to the conclusion that my personal life matters more. Maybe it’s my biological clock ticking, but more and more I find myself longing to have a child, and I can’t think of anyone I would rather have a child with than you.” She kissed him again.”Would you like to be the father of my children, Ben?” she asked him teasingly.

“I would much rather that you were the mother of mine,” he replied with a grin.

Years later, when they looked back, they both marvelled at how that Christmas Day which had begun with two lost, lonely souls had ended in unimagined bliss for both of them and proved to be the first day of the rest of their lives.


End file.
